Decoding Cleopatra
by ErnietheDinosaur
Summary: I can do a sudoku without really looking; I know what next week's lottery numbers are; I know that the five dollar bill in your pocket's serial number is B03074986*. The code on your phone is 0329, your mother's birthday. And I'm the best Vault technician in Johannesburg.
1. Chapter 1

**Sender:** savant-net

**Subject:** Savant Net Conference

1500, 3 January, 700 14th St, Denver, CO 80202, United States.

* * *

I twirled the half empty bottle of water in my hands. Turning the ice to chill my palms every other revolution. Slouching low in my seat, I tuned out the speaker; Diamond something-or-other... Aching muscles and drooping eyes meant my attention was far from the front on the room; more like the springy mattress back at the hotel.

_Now there's an idea. _

I shifted uncomfortably. Not quite believing I spent twenty hours on a plane here, just to listen to someone speak. Wishing I'd taken my colleague Amanda's advice for taking an earlier flight to get here two days early; sourly imagining her smirking and saying, _I told you so_. I closed my tired eyes and reached out with my mind to see just how long this thing was going to last.

Numbers and figures swirled around my exhausted brain like a washing machine. Everything clouded with suds and blurry with water. Four digits stood out like the red sock in the load of whites. 06:50.

They flashed like my alarm clock did in the morning. Impatient and angry. Groaning inwardly, I opened my eyes. Glaring at my bottle of water; I considered drinking it. Thing was, I didn't know if I could hold it that long. But it was so hot in here.

Cracking the top open, I took a sip. The cool liquid flowing down my parched throat and clearing my sleepy sensation ever so slightly. Not enough to allow me to remember a word the speaker was saying, but enough for me to actually think straight.

The chairs in the conference hall really weren't designed for comfort. Which, in all honesty is so stupid. People have to sit in these chairs for hours at a time, I think it would be much appreciated if your arse didn't get pins and needles half way through. I'm already feeling gatvol.

The speaker changed to a young lanky man with wiry arm muscles under the sweater he was wearing. His hispanic looks didn't match the blond highlights his hair glinted with. With high cheekbones and sharp jaw, he really didn't need any help in the looks department.

I flicked through the programme someone had given me on the way in, I was too tired to remember. Deciphering the name to read, Uriel Benedict. I should have known. The Benedicts' were one of the most important pieces of the Savant Net. They swept up the big criminals whilst people like me just cracked the safe aforementioned criminals had stashed their supply of Class A drugs, or the imported gold bricks that had been stolen six months earlier on a different continent or hemisphere.

I saw some of the females in the room sit up a little straighter, of course they would. One of the three Benedict brothers that didn't have a soulfinder and they'd jump at the chance. After twenty-seven years of life, to me; the term _soulfinder_, only existed in fairy tales.

The only reason I was here was to get out of working the week. I'd done six weeks of cracking vaults and tracking phone numbers and finding serial numbers on counterfeit cash; without so much as a night off. So when I got the email, I got on the plane with the pre-payed ticket and my suitcase.

Twenty nine minutes and forty-eight seconds remained until the break. Break meant food, break meant sleep, break meant bathroom. And I was getting desperate for all three.

Cracking my neck, I counted down the seconds with every tap my rubber soles made on the floor. I got even more impatient with every second. Someone's gift in the room was trying to calm me down, I could feel it. They were sat in chair 28G. Where ever that was.

Usually, I'm at rapt attention to these things, but today I was tired, I was hungry and my head was starting to ache, so all thoughts of concentration were out the window. All I could concentrate on were those painful seconds that continued to crawl by.

The water in my bottle was warm now. And that fact alone built my annoyance level up by several inches. Ten minutes and sixteen seconds.

I wonder if they're serving food? January is freezing in Colorado, I really didn't want to walk far to find food.

Nine minutes.

Coffee. Hot coffee would be great right now. Burning, black and bitter, just like I am now...

Eight minutes.

And Bagels. Toasted bagels. With cream-cheese... And onions... Ooh I love bagels and cream cheese...

Seven minutes.

I wonder if they sell koeksisters here? It's been ages since I've had one of those. Amanda used to bring them back from her lunch break and we'd eat them when they were still warm and gooey. She stopped doing that when she went on a diet. I didn't have the guts to eat one in front of her and the bakery that sells them moved a further twenty blocks from the offices.

Five minutes.

Come on... Come on... Come on...

"...and we're scheduled for a break, now." Benedict finished and I scrambled to my feet, shouldering my bag, I was out the door, snatching a cheese sandwich from a tray and pulling my jacket on. The weather outside looking cold.

"Cleo?"

I turned on my heel to see the crop of ginger hair belonging to Peter Brook. The scowl I'd been wearing disappeared. "Peter, hi." I sighed and pushed my headband back, holding my dark curls in place.

"I didn't know you were coming today."

"Yeah, well, I kinda wished I didn't, I haven't slept in over twenty four hours. I'm running on fumes."

"Definitely running, you didn't look to be able to get out of there fast enough." he chuckled quietly.

I forced a smile. "Look, Peter, it's good to see you and everything..."

"But you're about to pass out on the spot so you should probably get some rest." two very tall people joined Peter, one I recognised as his sister Crystal, the other looked like one of the Benedict brothers. It made me feel less awkward being six foot tall.

"I don't need telling twice!" I threw my hands up and stalked off towards the doors. The cold air hit me hard, a refreshing slap across the face that would keep me awake until I reached the hotel.

My feet were frozen as I walked down the snow covered streets, the warm hotel lobby made me smile. Up in my room, I kicked off my shoes and changed into my old green rugby shirt and sunshine yellow shorts. Diving under the covers, I was asleep in seconds.

* * *

Note that the words: _Koeksisters_ and _gatvol_ are South African slang and aren't just spelling mistakes.


	2. Chapter 2

I was rudely awakened at ten AM the next morning by continuous, rapid knocking at the door. Stumbling out of the cosy bed, I pulled on my Uggs and headed over to the door, dragging my hands across my face.

"What?" I yanked the door open and scowled at my 'visitor'.

It turned out to be three people. Crystal, who I saw briefly yesterday and the boy that was with her, and Uriel Benedict.

"Is a conference really so important it has to interrupt my sleep?" I groaned and leaned into the door.

"No, this is something much more important." Crystal smiled softly.

I sighed, "Come in then." stepping back and sweeping my arm across the air.

They sat on the couch and Uriel sat on the end of my bed. This confused me a little, and made me a little uncomfortable as to where to sit myself. Confusing me further considering this was _my_ hotel room.

I shifted from foot to foot, wrapping my monkey arms around my waist and glanced to and from each of them as they sat. "Well?"

"I'm not sure if you know this," Crystal began, "but, I'm a soulseeker."

My eyebrows shot up. "Oh, lekker." I nodded, hyper aware of my accent against her clear british, and realising I was sounding really thick and wishing I wasn't dyslexic so that I could have learned a more intelligent vocabulary. They all wore slightly confused expressions. Face-palming, I corrected my mistake, "Great. I meant great."

She smiled and continued, "Well, I've been searching for Uriel's soulfinder for a while now and I've tracked them to South Africa." I tugged awkwardly on my shirt. "but they aren't there anymore." I glanced up from my fiddling.

"Go on."

"I think it's you, Cleo."

My gaze swivelled to Uriel, his posture reading hopeful and happy. _Really? _I challenged, arching an eyebrow.

His face lit up like christmas. _Really._

_Interesting... _I mused searching for his birthday with my gift. 17th of April. I was two days older than him.

I could feel him searching my mind, my memories. He wouldn't have far to look. After an accident when I was seventeen, I lost basically all my memories up to that point, save my skills. I remembered how to do things, just not where I'd learnt them.

He got to that point and a furrow appeared between his eyebrows. I played the sound of hexanite exploding underwater. Or at least what I thought it sounded like.

His face cleared and then he seemed to press fast-forward on my memories; stopping at an image of Kwame and Zuri, her tiny hands linked around his neck tightly as she clung to his back. Her hot pink tutu stuck out at a perpendicular angle and her hair a wild lion's mane. She and Kwame had the same eyes, same brilliant smile, same nose and same hair colour. But she had her mother's hair structure and skin always a shade lighter than milk chocolate. Kwame was as tall as a tree and strong as an ox; with a smile that could light up coal mines.

Kwame was my best friend of ten years, Zuri my beautiful goddaughter at age seven with a tongue sharper than blades and sass as fast as lightening.

Crystal and the other boy, Benedict number five, excused themselves quietly.

Folding one leg under me, I sat down next to Uriel, taking his hand and playing with his fingers. "So, soulfinder, what is it you do?" he turned to me drinking in my rumpled appearance as if it were elixir.

"Numbers."

He arched an inky eyebrow.

"They just come easy to me. I can do a sudoku without really looking; I know what next week's lottery numbers are; I know that the five dollar bill in your pocket's serial number is B03074986*." I paused as he checked it and turned back to me, mouth hanging open in shock. "The code on your phone is 0329, your mother's birthday. And I'm the best Vault technician in Johannesburg."

Eyes the colour of the Pacific in April, flicking to my lips and back to my eyes. I dropped his hand and ran my fingers up his chest to his collar bone. "Just kiss me, idiot." I muttered and pressed my lips to his. Hot breath washing across my skin, "Wow." he gasped and moved his hand to the back of my neck, playing with the thick curls I had. Lips back on mine, hard, I fisted his shirt in my left hand, my right winding around his shoulder blade.

It had to be one of the most bizarre experiences I'd ever had. Kissing Uriel was like swimming in caramel after a life of eating tofu. Something felt oddly complete, like an extra organ I wasn't aware of missing until he showed up. Silk rather than polyester. Like conditioning your hair; its clean with shampoo, but that extra rinse really improves every aspect.

Moving his lips to my neck, he toppled the balance and I slipped off the edge of the bed, pulling him with me so we landed on the blue carpet with a thud, Uriel straddling me with his forearms under my shoulder blades.

I couldn't help but start laughing, even if I felt a little sore from the landing, the situation was too funny to stay quiet. Uriel's frame was trembling over me as he pulled back to meet my eyes. Kissing me quickly again, he rocked back onto his knees and stood up. Stretching out a hand he pulled me flush against him, running his hands up and down my torso.

"Where have you been?" he murmured,

"I thought..." pressing a kiss to his jaw. "That Americans..." kissing his pulse point. "Were extremely..." nuzzling his neck, "big on chivalry." I nipped his earlobe between my teeth and leaned back in his arms to smirk slightly at him.

He grinned easily, "Of course." rolling his eyes. "Would you want to get breakfast with me, Cleo?"

"Love to." I kissed him softly again, already addicted to his touch. "Just let me change." I glanced down at my version of pyjamas.

"Good idea."

Dressed in my jeans and my thickest jumper, we headed along the streets towards where Uriel claimed there was a cafe that served the best coffee in Denver. Who was I to pass up coffee? Who was I at all? I didn't even remember _that_ much...

Shaking the thought away, I focused on the warmth Uriel's arm was giving out where it was linked through mine. Both of us forgetting gloves, both agreeing it was too cold to leave your hands out of your pockets for any length of time.

Uriel ordered a flat white cappuccino and a black coffee with two doughnuts coated in icing sugar. "Sorry, this is as close as you get to a koeksister."

I scowled, "Stop going through my memories."

"Then stop silently judging me for putting the change in the box for starving kids in Africa."

"You didn't put all the change in. You kept seventy two percent of it. _That's_ what I'm silently judging you for."

"You really are good with numbers." He nodded.

"Mmm, but I suck at english. I'm dyslexic." I took a sip of coffee.

He shrugged. "I'm no scholar in that area of education. In fact, I don't think I've read anything other than a textbook since high school."

"I don't think I've read a book. Period."

"So you really don't remember anything?" He asked, studying me futilely.

"Nope." I popped the 'p'. "I mean, I have no recollection of the events. I still know stuff."

"Have you tried sensory stimuli?"

"Sorry?"

"Like tried to go about daily routines, eat the same food, visit the same places, listen to the same music..."

"I wouldn't know where to start. At the time I didn't have a job; that there was record of anyway. I didn't have a passport on me, or a driver's license, or even a library card. There wasn't an apartment or house under my name; and they checked everywhere, even the north pole. I didn't have any possessions, I had no idea where I was from, if I had any family, I didn't remember them and nobody was listed under my emergency contacts."

"Who was looking?"

"Huh?"

"You said 'they' looked everywhere. Who looked?"

"Public records, interpol."

"Why interpol?"

"The hospital I woke up in found hexanite in my blood, that's a red flag in anyone's book. They checked everything in case I was a terrorist."

"And were you?"

"Yes, because that's why I was able to walk through American security." I deadpanned and took another gulp of coffee.

"How did you know your name was Cleo?"

"Fine, I remembered my name. Just my first name. Whoever decided to call me Cleopatra..." I grumbled.

"What's your last name?"

"Egypt."

"Egypt?" he echoed.

"My doctor's thought it would be ironic." I shrugged.

Uriel snickered.

"Ah." He sipped more coffee, I ate some of the doughnut, licking the sugar off my lips.

"So, you know practically everything about me after a search of my brain. Tell me about you."

"What do you want to know?"

"You have six brothers. What's that like?" taking another bite of the doughnut.

"It made bathroom use really busy growing up." He smiled, I returned it. "But, no, it's great. You never get lonely. It's different now though. Everyone is growing up; I mean, Xav lives with Crystal in New York; Yves lives with Phee in San Francisco; Trace and Diamond yes are still in Denver, but they travel so much for Diamond's job. Zed and Sky are always around Wrickenridge. Vick... is Vick. The lone wolf. Nobody can really touch him. I live with Will, now. Since Trace kicked me out after he and Diamond returned from their honeymoon." he paused to drink some coffee. "Which, is strange being the older brother in the situation."

"So, what are the gifts of the famous Benedicts?"

"Famous?"

"Sorry, I meant 'low-profile-super-heroes/heroines-of-the-savant-n et'." I smirked and he chuckled softly.

"Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"With lack of memory, comes extra space. I felt a need to graffiti that area with nonsense."

"What was the question?"

"What gifts do you all have?"

"Dad and Will have a sixth sense for danger, risks and threats. My mom and Zed get flashes of the future and can pick up thoughts if your shields aren't watertight. Which has really came in handy over the last year; what with all the weirdness that's been going on every time one of us meets our soulfinder-" I felt my eyes stretch, what was I going to end up doing? I didn't even know what I was truly capable of, I could bring hell down on the Benedicts without realising-

Uriel's hand landed on top of mine, jerking me out of my inner-turmoil. "Hey," He said softly, rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of my wrist. "If you do, we'll be able to stop it. We've done it before, and we'll do it again. Besides, I know it wont be your fault."

I nodded, "Okay."

"Right, where was I?" he sighed, "Mom and Zed, yeah, Trace, the oldest, he can track objects that someone has touched through time and space. Which is why he's the best cop in Denver, probably Colorado. Victor, two years under me, has an extreme understanding of the brain, allowing him to manipulate thoughts and motives.

"I told you about Will... Xav, the joker of the family, he's a healer, training to be a doctor in Manhattan. Yves, the über genius. He's got the most exciting gift. He can make things explode and catch fire."

I felt my eyebrows pull down in a frown. Explosions were _not_ cool.

"And I've already explained about Zed."

"What about the soulfinders? I know about Crystal but not the rest."

"Diamond, Trace's soulfinder, she's the world's peace-maker. Smooths out arguments and feuds." I nodded and raised the mug of coffee to my lips. "Phee, Yves' girl, she can read your thought patterns and make it feel as if time has frozen-"

"Really?"

"Yeah, pretty cool really, helps a lot with Yves, when his gift gets out of hand. Sky, the smallest of all soulfinders at five feet and one debatable inch, has the best telekinetic powers in the family. Much to the annoyance of Zed, she can also read your emotions, which gives her an uncanny sense of knowing what you're thinking." his brows knitted together momentarily, but he shook his head and brushed the thought away, drinking more coffee.


End file.
